


The Archivists

by Haberdasher



Category: Elsewhere University (Webcomic), The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Archivist Jonathan Sims, Crossover, Dimension Travel, Drowning, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, Fairies, Gen, Libraries, Loss of Identity, Magic, Multiverse, Nonbinary Character, Truth Spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23638978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haberdasher/pseuds/Haberdasher
Summary: Elsewhere University’s Archivist meets The Magnus Archives’ Archivist.
Comments: 22
Kudos: 128





	The Archivists

The Archivist was inside their office, the door cracked open, when they heard nearby footsteps and rushed outside to take a closer look.

The man prowling the Library’s stacks was not from here, that much was evident from his wide eyes and the confusion crested upon his brow. If the Archivist had to choose one word to describe the man, it would be _dark_. Dark hair, dark clothes, dark eyes with dark bags underneath them, dark skin covered in dark scars. So unlike the Archivist, whose form (such as it was) was translucent to the eye, light and color refusing to cling to them any more than was needed to provide a bare outline of themself.

The Archivist didn’t concern themself with the man at first, though they did watch his meandering out of idle curiosity. That sort of thing was better left to the Pages, after all. One of their number would find him in time, they were sure of it.

But before that could happen, before the man was no longer visible in the library stacks that stretched and stretched and stretched, the Archivist heard a high, cheery voice call out “Archivist!”

The Archivist, naturally, turned their head to follow the sound, in order to spy who was calling them, who wanted their attention and perhaps their assistance.

They were a little surprised to find that the strange man wandering the Library turned his head to do the same, their movements nearly synchronized as the both of them looked over at the new visitor.

The Archivist recognized the speaker before long as she approached. It wasn’t the first time Timber had come to the Archivist, likely with another trinket to trade away--and sure enough, as Timber grew closer, the Archivist could see that her hands were cupped, that she must be hiding something within them. The Archivist wasn’t sure where she got all of her little charms--some seemed handmade, but others were more likely the product of other trades with beings likely to be less benign than themself.

Not their business, though. They were there to be a resource, to trade and give to those in need and to tell stories of those who came before, not to lecture those who either already knew or already should know the danger they were putting themselves in.

As Timber met the Archivist, she opened her cupped hands to reveal what looked to be a paper flower, well-made but otherwise unexceptional.

Of course, the Archivist knew well enough that looks can be deceiving.

“I come bearing a charm to trade you, Archivist!” Timber said.

The Archivist merely raised an eyebrow; that much seemed evident enough already, but some people do insist upon following their internal scripts just the same, and this wasn’t the first time that Timber had proven to be one of that ilk.

“It may appear to be a rose made of ordinary notebook paper, but its form is firm and unyielding as stone.” Timber demonstrated by poking and prodding the flower repeatedly in a way that would crinkle or rip ordinary paper, but left the paper flower unharmed. “And if you smell it-” Timber took a deep, theatrical breath in through her nose, then held the flower up so that the Archivist could do the same. “-it always smells of a filled cranberry bog just before harvest.”

The Archivist nodded, a thin smile appearing on their face. “A fascinating charm, though I fear whoever made it may earn the ire of the Courts for so commingling their blessings. I know just what to trade for this, one moment...”

A quick pop into and back out of their office, and the paper flower was safely stored away, with the Archivist holding out a thick red pen in exchange.

“For paper, a pen. The indigo ink of this pen flows of its own accord, and it will only ever write exactly what its current owner needs it to.” Timber eagerly extended their hands, and as the Archivist handed over the pen, they added, “Do note that _need_ and _want_ are often very different things indeed.”

“Of course, of course.” Timber said, though her tone wasn’t a terribly solemn one, and the Archivist was less than convinced that she had actually taken their warning to heart. “I do appreciate the trade, Archivist.”

“As do I.” The Archivist responded, adding a slight nod of the head as Timber bounced back towards the building’s entrance.

Truth be told, the Archivist had almost entirely forgotten about the strange visitor to the Library during the course of their exchange with Timber, and they were thus more than a bit startled when the man, who had apparently been standing in place watching them the entire time, asked, “What is this place?”

There was a certain urgency to his question, one that could be found not in its volume nor its tone but in something else entirely, something that made the Archivist’s speech rise up before they could think their words through.

“The Library of Elsewhere University, though further in than most students will ever wander.” And they recognized what had happened, knew the stranger’s trick for what it was at least broadly, so they added, a bit curtly, “And for what it’s worth, my tongue will flow freely enough without your assistance in the matter.”

“I’m sorry.” The man said. To his credit, he looked like he meant it, looked like he truly did regret invoking whatever magic that had been, the picture of contriteness. He also looked scared, though, scared of the _Archivist_ of all things, like their meager semblance of a body was going to lash out at him any second, like a half-being like them could strike real physical harm.

“Apology accepted, no debt owed. And do be careful about handing out apologies so easily; some on these grounds would not dismiss a potential debt so easily.”

“...sure. Thank you.”

“I’d avoid thanking people as well if I were you. ‘Please’ is also a dicey one, for the record. But I suppose you’re not accustomed to the Rules, now, are you?”

“I don’t even know which rules you’re referring to... I’m not from around here.” The man let out a bitter laugh as he added, “ _Really_ not from around here, from what I can tell.”

“I gathered that much already; the Library does have a way of picking up strays from time to time.”

“ _Strays_.” The man laughed again, shaking his head as he did so. “Interesting term for it.”

The Archivist shrugged noncommittally.

“So you’re an archivist, then?”

That strange, unnatural urgency from before wasn’t present this time around, and the Archivist hesitated before they answered, weighing their options carefully. They knew well enough that their title was growing perilously close to a Name as their time in the Library dragged on, but... but the man had already heard Timber refer to them as such, could put the pieces together easily enough even if they tried to skirt the question, and even if their title was nearly a Name at this point, it was unlikely that he would know how to do harm with it.

“I’m _the_ Archivist, yes. That’s been my role here for some time now.”

“The Archivist?” The man shot the Archivist a weak smile. “Funny, people call me that too. And not-people, sometimes. It gets annoying, really, I _do_ have a name-”

“Best keep that to yourself, then.”

“What?”

“Names are valuable property, here. Better not give them out to any who ask.”

The man nodded, starting to speak with a “tha-” before stopping himself and taking a breath before restarting. “Alright. I’ll keep that in mind.”

The Archivist looked at the man again. He’d said he, too, was called the Archivist? Well, they _had_ received a few inquiries clearly intended for another with that title, heard a few stories not about them but about another who shares their role... and as they gazed upon this man, upon the scars that criss-crossed his skin, upon his eyes that shone with an unnatural gleam, the Archivist began to put together some of the pieces.

“Other Archivist.” The man met their gaze, then, and oh, there was fire in his eyes, a sign of something burning deep within. “I may have heard your story before. Or pieces of it, at any rate.”

“Oh?” The man raised an eyebrow. “Do tell.”

“You are the Archivist from across the multiverse and across the pond, the one who watches and is watched in turn, the one who Knows too much and yet too little. Is that right?”

The other Archivist let out a laugh as dark as the rest of him. “That does seem to sum things up pretty well. Though... do you always speak like you’re telling a riddle?”

His eyes lit up, and some of that unnatural urgency was back, but it went away with a glare and a curt “Often, yes.”

“I didn’t mean to, I’m s-”

The Archivist cut him off before he could make another unnecessary apology. “Words are valuable here, too. Loose lips sink ships, or so they say. One should be either very specific or very vague in speech, lest the wrong thing slip out, and many here, yours truly included, find the latter to be easier and safer than the former.”

“I... I think I understand. Sort of. Isn’t this-” He paused. “This place has a strange sense of logic, I suppose.”

The Archivist shot the man a tight smile. “Between your appearance in the Library and what I already knew of your story, I suspect that you might well be able to say the same about the place you call home.”

“You’re not wrong.” His laugh sounded a little less bitter this time, a little more genuine, but there was a hunger behind his eyes. “You already know the big picture of who I am, it seems. I- I would appreciate it if I could learn the same about you.”

The Archivist’s smile widened. He was learning.

“I was human, once, long ago, lifetimes ago. I was a sailor, back them, and I drowned upon the Unsea.”

The other Archivist silently mouthed the term “Unsea” shortly after the Archivist used the term. Not a familiar one, then? Not a huge surprise; the world of the other Archivist sounded like an unfamiliar one indeed, and it was only fitting that their world would be equally unfamiliar to him.

“Fog rolled in on the Sargasso Sea, and none of us knew what it presaged. Drowning on the Unsea was like drowning on a true sea, but also like nothing you can know. It was like _nothing_. I washed up on the Unsea’s shores, and I was preserved, such as I am now. But much was lost along the way. Much of _myself_ was lost. I freed myself, I sought shelter within the Library, I became the Archivist of this place.” The Archivist paused for a moment before adding, “Such is my story, or at least the grand outline of it.”

A minute or two passed where the only sound to be heard was that of the man’s breathing, neither especially shallow nor especially heavy for a human, or one claiming to be so.

“You were human, you were drawn into something much bigger than you knew, and becoming Archivist was both a gain and a loss, a role to be played in a strange new world...” The man shot the Archivist a wry smile. “I think the two of us have more in common than merely our titles.”

The Archivist tilted their head to one side and pondered this for a long moment. “Perhaps.”

“Much as I appreciate meeting you, though, I really should be getting back. There are people that need me back home.” Another bitter laugh. “Or that need an Archivist, at least.”

“Go back the way you came, then. The Library is vast indeed, but searching enough will lead back to where you started. If you need more detailed instruction than that, I can try to hunt down a Page for you.”

“No, no, that should do just fine, th- I appreciate it.”

As the man turned to head back into the depths of the Library, he waved and called out behind him, “Goodbye, Archivist.”

The Archivist nodded, a smile on their face, as they echoed, “Goodbye, Archivist.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, consider following me on tumblr at [haberdashing](https://haberdashing.tumblr.com/)!


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